


Day 8: Day off

by SaiTheWriter



Series: Turkstober2020 [8]
Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII (Video Game 1997), Final Fantasy VII Remake (Video Game 2020)
Genre: Common Cold, Illnesses, Rufus ShinRa forgot he's only human, Sickfic, Turks (Compilation of FFVII)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-08
Updated: 2020-10-08
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:33:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26895994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaiTheWriter/pseuds/SaiTheWriter
Summary: Sometimes Rufus ShinRa forgets he's actually a human. Good thing his people know his limits for him.
Series: Turkstober2020 [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1957075
Comments: 6
Kudos: 24
Collections: Turkstober 2020





	Day 8: Day off

**Author's Note:**

> Technically a continuation of Day 7.

_Riiiiiiing._

His gaze opened to the blurred vision of his bedroom ceiling, taking several blinks to clear. Rufus thinned his lips in irritation at such a heavy and nigh on lethargic swim up to the here and now. Damned if what late night hadn’t caused a sour mood this morning. His hand fumbled out to hit his alarm and silence it. 

For several moments, the blond simply stared up at the soft white of his ceiling while it moved into slow focus, his thoughts straying no matter how hard he fought to bring them together. This wasn’t like him, his brain eventually pulled together, causing him to sit up and lever his feet over the side of the bed. Clearing his throat tugged out a wince, and his immediate thought was to reprimand Reno for his choice of food. There was no other reason why he might feel ill save food poisoning from that dubious, if tasty, late night Wutaian. 

Eventually he propelled himself from the bed and trudged towards his bathroom to complete his morning ablutions, clutching the rim of his sink with one hand while brushing his teeth. His stomach was a little nauseous, but nothing that couldn’t be handled with dry toast perhaps and only a half a cup of coffee. He leaned in to spit and paused, head bowed after watching the suds slip away in the water, overcome with a moment of vertigo. Yes, Reno would definitely be getting a curt word. Taking a deep breath, the blond straightened, catching the sound of his bedroom door.

That would be Tseng, but normally, the man knocked at his door before entering. Perhaps there was something imperative that required his attention. Damn, another reason why leaving last night had been a bad idea. Rinsing his toothbrush and smoothing his hair, the blond wandered out into the bedroom, rubbing at the ache in his shoulder. Tseng was there, holding Rufus’ briefcase and a carafe of coffee, not looking up as he entered. 

“You’re late, sir. I’ve poured your coffee.” He murmured, reaching to set it down on the long dresser near his side. 

“Thank you.” His voice grated as it came out, startling them both and pulling Tseng’s attention immediately. 

His gaze narrowed almost thoughtfully onto the blond, staring until Rufus almost felt uncomfortable. “What?” He finally demanded, hating the way it sounded rough and chalking it up to disuse so early in the morning.

“You’re taking the day off.” Tseng announced at last, setting down the briefcase and moving closer.

“Did Reno get to you?” Rufus rasped, frowning and clearing his throat with only mild difficulty. “Couldn’t keep himself from griping last night about the late hour.” He added, at Tseng’s quizzical glance.

“No, you’re not taking it off because of your late nights, much as you should. You’re sick, sir.” No mincing words, and rather abruptly he was moving, already ignoring the affronted look from the blond as he took his coat and moved to hang it up.

“Are you-. Tseng, I’m fine. Reno supplied a meal last night from some rundown place and I’ve got food poisoning.” Each word caused another mild flutter of nausea, though leaning against his dresser made the vertigo slo. “I can rest while I work. Sitting is resting.”

“You entrusted your care to me, did you not, sir?” 

“Why yes, bu-”

“And I take your trust of my loyalty seriously, sir. And as such, when I’m saying you’re unwell.” He paused, frown knitting his forehead closer together. “It means nothing about you being inadequate, and instead merely means you need to allow time to bring your performance back up to full.” He was not so far away by the time he slowed his steps, settling at his elbow and reaching out. 

Rufus had time to pull away, to protest this decision. But the thought of returning to bed, recalling how the vertigo had not been as bad when he was prone, that’s what allowed him to be led to his pushed back comforter. “Perhaps just a small lie in.” Rufus agreed, sinking gratefully down to the soft down of his comforter. 

“Perhaps. We’ll monitor you throughout the day. If you improve I will be more than happy to assist you back to the office, sir.” Tseng murmured, actually moving to tuck the blanket around him. “I’ll go change your coffee with tea. Perhaps a little honey for your throat.” Had he snored last night? That would easily explain his soreness. The blond made a noncommittal sound in return for in truth, he was already losing himself to rest, lashes fluttering down to hide the swaying room.

He lost track of time after the director stepped from his room, only jarred forward again when a cough rattled his chest, fading back out until the next came. Now that he had a name to put to it, his symptoms felt more prevalent. The sore tickle in his throat that he refused to acknowledge was now something more of a raw feeling, each cough it forced through him exacerbating the pounding in his head. And that terrible headache, it’d only worsened. It was as if a large drum thundered along, far worse than his usual migraines that came from staring at screens all day.

There were moments in between, waking for seconds of blurred thought, most of it gone as soon as he pondered, then abruptly dozing. At one point he mumbled something, reacting to the blanket shifting, the cool touch of something soft on his brow as it rested for several moments, and then the damp material of what he decided had to be a compress settling there. The relief was immediate, his sigh escaping before he even realized his mouth had opened. 

It was even enough to give him a bit of energy, his lashes fluttering open to watch the ceiling swim into view. Footsteps to the side of his bed tugged his attention, watching the tall figure of the Director smoothly walking around the room. His focus came, but briefly, only fading in as his gaze slid towards the nightstand beside his head. 

And the single black glove laid beside a glass of water and dish of tablets.

When Tseng turned back towards the bedridden soul behind him, he noted, with surprise the small smile tilting his sleeping features.


End file.
